By Andrea Scarpino
There are many things that won’t be cured by seeing a moose by the side of the road, by sharing delicious food with friends, going to the ballet, spending hours wandering through a museum. But loneliness will definitely be eased, as will sadness, as will disappointment.
Days before Zac and I were supposed to leave for Italy, his cousin was killed in a motorcycle accident. We cancelled the trip so Zac could attend the funeral, be present with his family. A hard decision, all things considered. We had both been looking forward to the trip for months. I was going to meet Italian members of my family, was looking forward to cobblestone streets, gelato, ancient ruins and art. Was looking forward to feeling some connection with my father, who I still miss every day. Who I still dream about often. We were going to connect with dear friends in Sicily.
Instead, I watched hours of TV on Netflix and Hulu, read stupid entertainment magazines. I thought ceaselessly about loss, how it can encompass everything, can work its way into every thought, every moment. I felt more lonely than I’d felt all winter.
And then we decided we needed to try to salvage something of our planned time away, so packed our car and headed to Ann Arbor to see our dear friend Courtney. Courtney is an amazing chef and foodie, and fed us crazy delicious meals, paired our food with crazy delicious wines. We did real hot sweaty yoga in a real hot sweaty yoga class. We walked in the sunshine, bought fancy vinegars and olive oils to bring back to Marquette. My stomach hurt from laughing, hour after hour. I basked in Courtney’s presence. I began to feel my loneliness subside.
Zac and I continued to Chicago, saw the Aspen Santa Fe Ballet, ate in vegetarian and Mexican restaurants, spent an entire day in the Field Museum. I didn’t pay attention to the news, barely checked my email from my phone (and for the first time in years, I hadn’t even brought my laptop with me). For a week, I felt free from the world’s constraints. I began to feel restored, piece by piece.
Then driving back to Marquette, only an hour away from home, we saw a moose eating by the side of the road. We had been listening to music, alternating choosing songs, when Zac stopped the car suddenly. As tall, at least, as our car, the moose stood quietly, seemingly unfazed by our presence. I gasped, rolled down the window. Zac turned off the radio. As it walked away into the woods, the trees made rustling sounds around it, twigs snapped under its weight. It was beautiful.
We drove the rest of the way in silence. I thought about how much better I felt than when we left. I thought about the necessity of unplugging the internet, of being outside, of connecting with friends. Of feeling disappointment, regret, sadness, but not letting it linger indefinitely. Of feeling alive in the world, feeling the joy of breaking bread with friends, of a good yoga class, summer rain. Feeling grateful for a moose, a mythical creature to a city kid like me. A moose, just standing by the side of the road eating. And we stopped a minute to admire it. And it let us. Then walked away slowly.
Poet and essayist Andrea Scarpino is a frequent contributor to POTB. You can visit her at: www.andreascarpino.com
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Planet of the Blind 